Someone To Watch Over Me
by WriterJC
Summary: Gary meets a girl and finds himself on the run! Includes Chuck


**Someone To Watch Over Me**

by Jackee C.

Gary stopped, resting against the brick front of an old warehouse. His breaths came in quick puffs, white in the meager illumination of an aged street light. He cast quick glances in either direction, and pulled a folded news print from inside his jacket. At 10:27 p.m., in front of Jerry's Corner Mart, Sarah Tiffany Reynolds would become the latest victim of drive-by violence in the Windy City. The details hadn't changed, and wouldn't change, unless he, Gary Hobson, did something to change them. After a final glance at his watch, he shoved the paper back inside his jacket and continued running. 

He stopped short as the alley spilled out unto S. Elms. Jerry's Corner Mart stood on the opposite side of the street. Several pedestrians loitered near the entrance, but non fit the description of the blonde headed woman whose picture had accompanied the article. 

Gary started across the street, hoping that for once he'd arrived early enough to forgo the obligatory close call. His hopes began to wane when halfway across the street, he noticed a slight figure stepping out of the store. He paused, focusing more intently on the slim form that was now quickly moving in the opposite direction down the street. A large beret was pulled over her head, but wisps of blonde leaked out of the back, giving her away. 

"Hey! Outta the street!" Screeching tires, accompanied by a loud yell startled him out of his surveillance. 

"Yeah? Well, watch where..." The retort died on his lips as his eyes locked on the bumper that was mere inches from his legs. His eyes rose to the car's occupants as he quickly side stepped out of the way. He caught a brief glimpse of the driver's sneering features and the impression that there were two others in the vehicle. Any other details were lost as the vehicle rolled passed; its darkly tinted windows hid everything else. Shuddering, he turned his attention back toward the woman he'd come to save. He saw her beret disappearing around the corner at the next street. 

This time, he waited until he got to the sidewalk before stopping. Out came the paper. Things had changed, only not for the better. Now, instead of being shot on Elms, in front of Jerry's, she would be shot on Templeton. He glanced up to read the name of the street she'd turned down. Templeton. So much for being early. 

He spotted her as he reached the corner. She was at the end of the block, waiting for the walk sign. 

"Hey!" He called, rushing along after her. He noticed the way her head jerked, but she didn't turn around. Instead, she continued to face forward, and began to cross when the walk sign illuminated. 

Gary had nearly run the length of the block when he noticed the car that was crossing through the intersection. It was the same black sedan that had nearly hit him earlier in front of the market. Only now, one of its tinted rear windows was rolling down and something slim, black and lethal was being extended. 

Dashing between the waiting traffic, Gary put on a burst of speed, yelling again for Sarah. This time she did turn. Gary saw her eyes widen in fear, her groceries falling to the ground as she threw up her arms in defense. A gunshot echoed to his right, and he dove. After that things got confusing. 

He felt his body collide with hers, then the ground beneath them as they landed in the grass of a nearby home. Several more gunshots, then the sound of squealing tires, a barking dog and muttered curses. The smell of vanilla. Sirens in the distance... 

"You can let go of me now," a voice said from beneath him. 

"Huh? What?" Gary tried to get his bearings. He pushed himself into a sitting position, groaning against new aches no doubt caused by his tumble into the greenery. His original plan had been to get to his feet and then help the woman he'd knocked to the ground up as well, but his body had other ideas. A wave of weakness overcame him, and he quickly decided that sitting on the ground a few moments longer wouldn't be such a bad idea. 

"You okay?" he asked instead, when he saw that Sarah was pulling herself to a sitting position as well. 

"Fine," she said, "Aside from the fact that I think I was just shot at. You?" 

"Okay too, I think," Gary breathed, happy to hear that the sirens were close now. It was time for him to make his exit. He saw enough of the police as it was. Moving his way unsteadily to his feet, he looked Sarah over once again, to be sure she was all right. Satisfied, he turned away. "The police will be here soon," he said over his shoulder. 

"Wait," she said, catching his arm. "I didn't..." 

Gary gasped as sudden pain shot along his arm at her touch. Dazed eyes glanced between her blood covered fingers and the hole that had burned through the upper arm of his leather jacket. As if knowledge of the wound suddenly added to its effects, Gary staggered, his breath suddenly coming in short gasps. 

"I-I've been shot!" 

Part Two 

"Take it easy," Sarah told him, wincing as she pulled at the leather of his jacket, in an attempt to get a better look at the wound. 

"Ow!" Gary protested, pulling away. "What do you mean 'take it easy?'. You weren't the one who was shot." 

"It's a flesh wound; bullet just nicked you," she said, snatching the scarf from around his neck. "But your arm is bleeding like mad." Folding over one end of the scarf, she glanced up at him. "Ready?" 

"For what?" he demanded. 

"Direct pressure," she supplied. "This is probably gonna hurt. I can't have you bleeding to death after you just saved my life." 

"Right." Gary murmured, reaching for the scarf with his left hand. "I can do it." He was beginning to feel more than a little woozy. 

Sarah held the scarf away from him. "Yeah, I'm sure you can, but humor me. Sit before you fall." 

"No... I can..." he mumbled, reaching again for the scarf. The sirens that had earlier been moving closer with each passing second were becoming a distant echo. He blinked in an attempt to focus on the woman before him. "I..." His vocal chords refused to cooperate, followed by his mind. Everything became hazy, and then dark. 

* * * * * * * * * 

Motion. A flash of white. Something vague and insubstantial across his chest. Motion. Darkness. Cold. Antiseptic. 

Gary's eyes blinked open. His eyes took in the room. Actually, it was more a curtained off area with a gurney and a chair in the middle. He knew immediately that he was at the hospital, why he was there took a few more seconds. 

On the heels of his memory came the realization of a tightness in his right arm. He glanced toward the white bandage that circled the whole of his upper arm, touching it lightly. The area felt odd, as if it had been numbed. 

Satisfied that he was indeed whole, he rolled to a sitting position. A bag sat on the floor near the bed, a quick glance verified its contents: one total loss of a leather jacket - the right sleeve had been cut off. Add that to the expense of this visit to the hospital, and he didn't want to even think what this foray into 'changing things' was going to cost. Sighing heavily, he levered himself off of the bed and moved through the curtains. 

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" a voice asked before he'd taken more than a half a step. 

"Uh...I was leaving..." he ventured. "Where do I sign out?" 

"Go back in and sit, someone will be in to see you in a minute." 

"Thanks," Gary murmured and passed back through the curtains to wait. The clock on the wall announced the lateness of the hour. 1:02. It was going to be another one of those nights. He could only hope that tomorrow was going to be a slow news day. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the clearing of a throat. "Mr. Hobson?" 

"Yeah?" He turned. 

"Officers Pauls, Chicago PD. I'd like to ask you a few questions." 

One hour later, Gary walked into his apartment above McGinty's and leaned carefully against the door. Exhausted didn't even scratch the surface. "Bed," he murmured, dredging up all of his remaining strength for the task. He dropped the bag containing his ruined garments and a handful of prescriptions near the door, making a bee-line for his bed. He stepped out of his shoes along the way, then his socks. His jeans presented more of a problem since he had to undo his belt with only his left hand. But once that task was complete, he walked out of them as well. Sleep was the all-important goal, tomorrow he would worry about cleaning up. Or maybe the day after. 

Part 3 

Slap. 

Meow. 

'Wake up, Chicago. It's going to be a beautiful day. Spring is right around the corner..." 

"No... no, no, no, no," Gary groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes. The sharp pain reminded him forcefully of the previous nights activities. The grainy feel behind his eye lids reminded him that those activities had extended into early morning. Sleep was what he needed. Yes, more sleep. 

Meow. 

With a long-suffering sigh, he threw back the covers and moved toward the door. 

"Does the word vacation mean anything to you?" He demanded of the tabby feline. It, of course, ignored him and pranced indifferently into his apartment, leaving him to stare tiredly after it. 

With a sigh, Gary stooped to pick up the paper, his eyes scanning the articles even as he straightened. Nothing on the front page, he noted. Maybe he'd be lucky and things would be light. He might even be able to grab a couple more hours of sleep. 

He closed the door with a shoulder, and flipped through the pages. A sigh of relief died in his throat when he reached page 7. A glance toward his bedside clock confirmed his fears. He only had 17 minutes. 

* * * * * * * * * 

Sarah Reynolds stared at her reflection across the bathroom sink She'd tried valiantly to cover the dark shadows beneath her eyes, but make-up could only do so much. Her, now red, hair could definitely use a professional trimming, and she could probably stand to eat a bit more. Her mother would never have approved of her allowing her appearance to become so run-down. But her mother had never had to face the things Sarah had over the past few months. 

Turning away from the disappointing image, she gazed around the motel room. All of her earthy belongings were contained in an overnight sack on the edge of the lop-sided bed. There was no way she'd be able to return to the apartment, now. She would have to leave Chicago with only the things she'd been able to take while the police had been present the previous night. 

She'd been sloppy, relaxed her guard. Old Mrs. Easley had reminded her so of her Aunt Teresa that she'd become attached to the woman, and the rest of the older people in the building. It had begun to feel like home, all most. If it weren't for that Gary guy from the night before... She shook her head, not wanting to think anymore about what might have been. This would be a learning experience for her. She wouldn't slip up again. 

Placing her brush in the sack, and securing the zipper, she headed out of the door. 

The morning was full of the sounds of people going about their lives. The L echoed in the distance, blending with the sounds of traffic as the city bustled around her. How she envied them. Glancing both directions along the walkway along the motel front, a little girl caught her eye. 

The child smiled shyly and waved, before her mother grabbed her hand and drew her toward an old Lincoln parked across from the door. Sarah flashed the child a quick smile, and headed off toward the motel office. She was preparing to cross the parking area that would point take her in the correct direction, when she heard someone calling her name. 

She turned sharply, fear jumping into her throat. She relaxed slightly as she noticed the man from the night before. He looked awful, as if he'd had less sleep than even she'd gotten. Despite the fact that she was probably mostly to blame for that, she couldn't help but be suspicious of his presence. She'd chosen this motel after the police had dropped her off near her apartment. There was no way anyone should have been able to find her. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked him nervously, stepping back involuntarily as he approached. 

He seemed to take notice of her motion and paused, glancing in both directions along the parking lot. "I--uh, I thought you looked familiar," he said. "I had to--to make a delivery out here early," he gestured a folded newspaper toward the van and smiled. 

"Uh huh," Sarah nodded, taking in the mini van with a restaurant logo along the side. He looked harmless enough, and not a little uncomfortable. 

"I almost didn't notice you," he continued, pointing toward her hair. "It looks nice on you." 

"Thank you," she said, softly, almost smiling. Whether he meant it or not, a compliment felt good just then. And it seemed genuine. She relaxed a bit, no longer feeling threatened. Still she couldn't bring herself to encourage him to continue their conversation. He was an unknown quantity; one she couldn't afford to take on. 

"Don't let me keep you away from your work," she said, taking another step away. 

Gary hesitated, again glancing around the parking lot. Then seeming to come to a decision, he moved closer to her. "I have a few minutes, would you like to..." 

Sarah backed away, suddenly panicked. "No...I..." 

A screamed escaped as Gary lunged toward her. He grabbed both arms around her, and pulled her back between the parked vehicles. As they tumbled between the van and an old Chevy, Sarah saw a black vehicle careen by, directly over the place in which she'd been standing. 

Part Four 

Sarah stared in shock at the empty spot, imagining her body impacting with the speeding vehicle. She felt nauseous. How had they found her so quickly? She'd been careful! She had to get away... Now. 

Struggling in an effort to disentangle herself, she barely registered the grunt of pain which emanated from the warm body beneath her. But some part of her brain must have reacted, because she paused, took in his grimacing expression. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly. Then, expression hardening, "Stay away from me. Far away from me." And then she was on her feet and running. There was no time to waste. He was moving, breathing; he would live. She, on the other hand, wouldn't live for long unless she got out of this town. Fast. 

* 

Gary remained on the ground until the pain in his arm subsided. "You're welcome," he managed through clinched teeth. It was all he could do to check the paper left-handedly. The story had changed. He'd done what he came to do. 

Dragging himself to his feet, he climbed stiffly into the van. As he prepared to close the door, something shiny and gold caught his eyes. Moving back out of the van he picked it up. It was a locket on a gold chain. After a brief flicker of conscience, he opened it. There was a small image of a rose on one side and a picture of Sarah on the other. The image of the rose seemed to reflect the light at odd intervals. Gary frowned as he tilted it, observing the effect. After a final look around, he snapped it shut and dropped it into his pocket then climbed back into the van. He had a feeling he'd be seeing Sarah Tiffany Reynolds again. 

* * * * * * * * * 

"Whoa, Gare, buddy, you looked in a mirror lately?!" 

Those weren't exactly the words Gary wanted to hear at the moment. And the volume wasn't necessarily conducive to appeasing the little guys with sledge-hammers in his brain. "What?" he grumbled, gazing down at himself. He'd never hear the end of it if he'd wandered out in his PJs or mixed-matched shoes or something. 

"Does the phrase 'death warmed over' ring any bells?" Chuck asked pointedly. "You need to get more sleep." 

"Yeah, sure, no problem," Gary rolled his eyes. "You got any aspirin back there?" He settled carefully onto a bar stool. Quick motions weren't good for what was fast approaching migraine territory. At least the paper was clear until early afternoon. He set it on the edge of the bar. 

Chuck paused, took a closer look at his friend. "You sure you're okay, pal?" 

"Yeah, fine," Gary said, resting his head in one of his hands. Closing his eyes seemed to help. Vaguely he heard Chuck rambling on about the merits of letting the paper take care of itself sometimes. Of allowing people to deal with the consequences of their actions. Letting nature, destiny, fate, take their courses. Something about mermaid and tequila night and then... 

"Gare!" A quick slap on the arm. 

Gary gasped, his left hand moving protectively toward his arm. Then at the last minute, he tried to cover the motion. "I must have fallen asleep," he muttered, grabbing up the bottle of aspirin and coffee in one hand. Chuck wasn't having it. 

He walked around the bar, suspicion in his eyes. "What was that?" he asked. 

"What was what?" Gary tried to move away. 

"You know what," Chuck said, now serious. "I felt a bandage on your arm. What happened?" 

Gary looked across at his friend, weighing the odds of spilling the whole truth. He sighed; Chuck was his best friend. He owed him nothing less than complete honesty. Well, almost complete honesty. 

"I hurt it last night, helping a woman. It was just a... a scratch. I went to the hospital and everything." 

Chuck continued to stare across at him. "All right," he relented, throwing up both his hands. "Just be careful, okay?" 

"Okay." Gary nodded slightly, holding his friend's gaze. When Chuck turned away he swallowed, feeling more than a twinge of guilt. 

* * * * * * * * * 

Marissa moved slowly toward the bar where she heard Chuck clinking glasses. He wasn't being very careful. "You break it you bought it," she said, throwing his own policy back at him. She could tell that something was bothering him, but the direct approach never worked with Chuck. 

He didn't respond. 

"Oh-kay," she breathed. This was worse than she thought. She took a guess. "Where's Gary this morning?" 

"The boy wonder is upstairs, no doubt recharging his Kryptonite." 

Sounded like pay dirt to her. And it wouldn't do to tell Chuck he was mixing his super heroes. "Paper going easy on him today?" she ventured, settling onto one of the bar stools. She felt something familiar beneath her hands. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, shocked. Gary never left his paper laying around. It was always either in his jacket pocket, or his hip pocket. 

"Yep," Chuck answered, sounding as if he hadn't turned around. 

This was getting old. And she was really beginning to worry. "Chuck, what's wrong?" she asked. 

Chuck was saved from replying by the sound of someone clearing her throat. "Excuse me," she said. "I'm looking for Gary." 

Part Five 

Sarah stood across from the blind woman and the man, waiting. Neither seemed to understand what she'd said. "Is there a Gary Hobson here?" she repeated, hating that she even had to come. She hoped this was the right McGinty's. 

"Who wants to know?" the man asked suspiciously. 

The woman shot him an exasperated look. "What is it about? Perhaps I, or Chuck could help you?" 

Sarah shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I really need to speak with him. Is he here?" Well, at least she had the right place. "It's important," she added as an afterthought. 

Chuck continued to watch her for several moments, then threw down a towel. "Who should I tell him is calling?" he asked. 

"Sarah... we met last night." she said, and Chuck's eyes seemed to widen with sudden insight. She wondered what Gary had told him about the night before and that morning. It wasn't every day that one was nearly gunned down and run over in a twelve hour time span. 

"Right," Chuck nodded, then back-tracked to the bar and picked up the newspaper. Sarah wondered what that was all about. 

* * * * * * * * * 

Gary opened his eyes and blinked up at the ceiling. What was that? What had awakened him? There it was again. Something had brushed across his foot. 

He sat up and threw back the covers. An irritated meowing sounded from beneath the blanket. In a quick motion, he uncovered the cat who continued to make motions at his feet. 

"What do you want?" he asked it. Wasn't it bad enough the animal woke him every morning like clock work. Did he have to disturb his naps as well. "You want some milk?" He had ran out on it this morning. 

The cat's meows became louder as it made another run at Gary's feet. 

"Okay, fine." Gary climbed out of bed, his eyes immediately searching for the paper. The dresser, the sofa... where was it? He got down on his knees and looked underneath the bed. Nothing. Then he remembered. He made quick work of getting dressed, and then he was out of his room and on the way down the stairs. The sound of Chuck's footsteps approaching stopped him. 

"Here." Chuck said, handing him the paper. "There's someone named Sarah here to see you." With that he turned on his heel and headed back downstairs. 

Gary stared after his friend. It was unlike Chuck to be so silent. He hadn't made any comments about stock quotes, or game scores. Then Chuck's words dawned on him. "S...Sarah?" he called after the shorter man. 

"Yeah, Gare. That's what I said," Chuck turned to look at him, then continued on out of sight. 

"Sarah, right..." Gary glanced at the paper, and his attention was immediately captured by the headline. Things had changed... 

* * * * * * * * * 

"This is Rivers. Looks like the fish may have bitten." A dark haired man spoke into a cellular phone. Continuing to stare along the block toward the restaurant and pub he'd been ordered to keep an eye on, he acknowledged his new orders. "Not a problem." 

Shutting off the phone, he shrugged it into his pocket. He then looked carefully up and down the street before stepping out of the deep blue Ford Taurus and weaving through the moderate mid-morning traffic. As he walked the block to his destination, he kept a close watch on his surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, no knowing looks or unusual behavior from passersby. 

As he neared the building, he made a surreptitious motion inside his sport jacket. There was a brief glimpse of a shoulder holster before the jacket fell back into place. He was ready. He moved on toward the front door. 

Part Six 

Chuck turned as the door opened and watched as a tall man dressed in a light-colored sports jacket entered. He figured the colors were a little out of season, and the jacket screamed discount store. Considering the hour, Chuck quickly pegged him as a government employee. He continued to watch the man as he glanced around the restaurant as if he were looking for someone. Aside from a few customers in the far corner, the place was empty. 

"Can I help you?" Chuck approached him, waving off Aimee, the day waitress. 

The man's smile was friendly. "Uh, I was looking for a friend of mine. We were supposed to meet here a few minutes ago, and I'm afraid I'm late." 

Chuck glanced toward the kitchen, then turned back toward the man. "Maybe if you described your friend," he suggested. "Got a picture?" 

The man eyed him oddly. "No... Perhaps I've missed my friend," he said, quickly back-stepping toward the door. "Thanks for your help, Mr..." He allowed the question to hang. 

"Chuck." 

"Yes. Thank you." The man turned and moved quickly toward the door. 

Chuck let his breath out in a rush, and looked to where Marissa sat worriedly at the bar. 

* * * * * * * * * 

Gary glanced around the corner of the building, waving Sarah back with a hand. The alley looked clear, and none of the pedestrians moving at the opposite end seemed to take any particular notice of them. 

"Come on," he waved her around the edge of the building and made a run for Chuck's car. Quickly unlocking the doors, he climbed inside and started the engine. 

"What's going on?" Sarah demanded. "And where are we going?" 

"You're just going to have to trust me a little bit longer," Gary said as he threw the car into gear. His words forestalled her, but her expression said that she really didn't like the way this situation was going. She reached for a door handle. 

"Stay in the car!" Gary told her. "Listen, it's important. I don't have time to explain it, but if you get out of this car someone is going to make another attempt on your life." 

Sarah seemed to pale. "What?!" she asked, her voice coming out more a whisper then an incredulous demand. Her shoulders seemed to cringe as stared at him in shock. Pure panic appeared in her eyes as she made another grab for the door handle. 

"Sarah!" Gary reached across her, holding the door shut against her desperate attempts to open it. "I've saved your life twice, now. Doesn't that count for something? I swear I'm not going to hurt you. But if you get out of this car all bets are off." 

His words penetrated, and she stopped fighting, but didn't release her hold on the door. "Will you stay in the car?" Gary asked her. 

She held his gaze for a long moment, then sighed in resignation, nodding her assent. 

"Thank you," Gary said, moving slowly back toward his side of the car. His eyes lingered a moment longer, then focused along the alley. The edge of it still looked clear. Now if he could just get them on the street with a minimum of hassle. He had to fight the urge to floor it, deciding that taking it slow would draw much less attention. 

After proceeding at what he hoped was a reasonable pace toward the street, he stopped to check for traffic. The front of McGinty's was clear, there was no one in sight. Then, just as he pulled out onto the street, the door burst open. A tall man dressed in a light-colored sport jacket exited and looked searchingly in the opposite direction. Then his eyes turned, and met Gary's. 

Gary's heart jumped to his throat at the recognition and intent he saw in the man's eyes. His peripheral vision caught the man going for the inside of his sport jacket as he wheeled the vehicle out into traffic, and sped off in the opposite direction. 

Part Seven 

"Chuck?" Marissa's voice was full of worry, as she gazed sightlessly in the direction of his movements. She'd heard the conversation with the man, and she had a feeling he wasn't what he'd appeared to be. Maybe he was the one who the paper had warned Gary about. Chuck's silence tended to confirm that he felt the same way. 

"I think Gary's in big trouble," he finally said, softly. "That guy wasn't your average run-of-mill-baddie, I think he was government, as in federal agent or something. One of the good guys gone bad." 

"Are you sure?" Marissa asked, hoping that Chuck's overactive imagination was kicking up again. They hadn't even found out just what Gary had read; they only knew that whatever it was, he'd had to leave - quickly. 

"Of course I'm sure," he insisted. "I should know what they look like after that audit trouble I had. " 

"Oh," Marissa wasn't sure what to say to that. Chuck obviously believed what he was saying. 

"Marissa?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I think he had a gun." 

* * * * * * * * * 

"Anybody following?" Gary asked, weaving through traffic so that he could make a left hand turn at the light. 

"No, I don't see him." Sarah responded, her eyes trained out of the back window. There was no sign of the midnight blue Taurus any place behind them. "We've lost him," she said, feeling almost giddy with relief. As if in echo of her sentiments, Gary sighed aloud. 

"All right. Good." He continued along the street at a less frenzied pace. Reaching into his pocket, he drew the item she'd come searching for. "Care to tell me what's going on?" he asked in exchange. 

"Thank you," she replied, ignoring his question. "You can just let me out at the next corner." She didn't want to go into this with him. He'd done enough in getting her out of there. The fact that he'd given her necklace back without a fight was evidence enough for her that he was a good guy. 

"And then what?" Gary asked. "Wait until someone else catches up to you again? Why didn't you tell the police that something was going on last night?" 

"Right here is...." Sarah began, then watched the corner pass as Gary continued on through the intersection. "..good." She turned on him, then. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Gary. But, I'd really appreciate it even more if you'd let me out of this car." 

"No." Gary spoke stubbornly after half-a-second's consideration. 

Sarah's mouth dropped briefly. Then, in a move that was more defiance than forethought, she threw open the door open. 

"What do you think you're doing?!" he demanded, slamming on the brakes. 

Sarah gasped at the foolishness of her actions when she saw how near the cars in the neighboring lane had been to the door. But it was too late to turn back now. Tossing her head, she answered his question. "I'm getting out of the car." 

* 

Gary muttered a few choice words under his breath as he struggled toward the curb so he could park the car. Even then, he wasn't all-together legal. Chuck would have a cow if he found out. Grabbing the newspaper from his back pocket, he turned to the first page: 

Young woman gunned down at train station 

Grunting in frustration, he switched on his blinkers and climbed out of the car. He could see her far ahead, almost obscured by the pedestrian traffic along the busy street. He would have to run. 

When he finally caught up to her, she seemed genuinely surprised that he was there. "What are you doing here, now?" she asked him, throwing a hand on her hip. 

"I..I'm trying to help you, that's what," Gary managed. Then pointed back toward the car. "I can give you a ride to wherever you want to go. The train station isn't safe. They'll find you there." 

"Just how is it that you know these things?" Sarah eyed him suspiciously. 

"It doesn't matter. I'm right aren't I?" Gary never understood why he had to convince people to save their own lives. And Sarah was being more stubborn than most. 

"Okay fine," she said, tossing her bag over her shoulder. "Virginia." 

"Huh? Virginia?!?" Was she crazy? Where had that come from? 

"You said wherever I want to go. That's where I want to go." She did have a point there. Maybe he could try to take her to the bus station or the airport. 

"Just a second," he said, turning his back toward her and opening the paper. The headline had changed. She was no longer killed in a train station, now it was the bus station. Okay, he could take a hint. Quickly flipping through the rest of the paper, he wasn't surprised to find that there was nothing else that demanded his attention. Reluctantly he turned back toward her. 

"Okay. I'll do it.' 

Sarah just gaped at him as he turned and headed for the car. "Coming?" he asked her, challenge in his eyes. 

Nodding numbly, she followed him. 

* * * * * * * * * 

"Are you nuts?!" Gary held the phone a little away from his ear at his friends shrieking. 

"Chuck..." he tried to interrupt. "Chuck...listen..." Sighing in frustration, he tried again. "Chuck." This wasn't working. Turning away from the phone booth, he caught Sarah as she crossed back to the car from the burger joint. She held a large sack of burgers in one hand and a large paper cup holder balance in the other. She sat the bag of burgers atop the drinks as she opened the door, then bent in to settle the food. It was at that moment that the whole works began to totter. 

Gary cringed visibly as she fought to balance the oversized cups. At the last second, she caught them, then settled the cupholders safely unto the car floor. "Chuck...," Gary tried again. Then turning quickly to the sports section, he threw out several scores then called a quick "gotta go" and hung up the phone. 

Part Eight 

"They got away." 

A pause as he listened. 

"No. No... I don't think...." 

A longer pause, a sigh born of frustration. "Yes. Good-bye." 

Rivers clicked the cellular phone off and tossed in into the passenger seat along with a stack of photos. 

Pensively, he picked up one of the photos, allowing the scene to replay in his mind. The red car had appeared out of the alley, a dark-haired man behind the wheel. *She'd* been in the passenger seat. Terror was clearly etched on both their faces, but there was something additional in the man's. When their eyes met, Rivers thought he'd recognized something else. Something he couldn't put his finger on, exactly. And that was what bothered him. He liked to have an understanding of all the players in these...excercises. This new young man was a wild card, an unknown quantity. 

Allowing the scene to fade out, he returned his attention to the photograph. Her hair was blonde in the picture, and she was smiling - clearly experiencing happier times. She was standing on a boat, holding wind-swept hair away from her face. A golden locket hung from a chain on her neck, peaking from the folds of a large white button down shirt - obviously not her own. He flipped it over, reading the hand written words there. Again, though they were burned into his mind. 

He closed his eyes, and again remembered the young man driving the car. He was the key to finding her now. Reaching across the seat, he picked up the phone. 

"This is Rivers. I need some information." 

* * * 

"You know Gary, you really don't have to take me to Virginia." Sarah said, as she finished her burger, wading the wrapper into a tight ball for the trash bag. 

"Why's that?" Gary's eyes turned in her direction breifly, then back to the road. "I thought that was where you wanted to go." 

Sarah smiled slightly, as she tried to gather her thoughts. She had yet to figure out what motivated this man. It was unnerving when a total stranger was willing to put his life on hold to drive a woman he'd known less than twenty-four hours halfway across the country. It just wasn't normal. 

"Yeah, that's what I said," she admitted. "But I kinda came up with that off the top of my head. Believe it or not, there's no real plan here. I just had to get away and it seemed as good a place as any. If you could just drop me in the next town, I'll be fine." 

Gary looked at her again, those eyes seeming to take in more in a glance than they'd discussed in all of their short acquantance. "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?" he asked her. 

Sarah's smile faded. She could feel the old defenses rising. This was not a safe topic of conversation. "Gary," she said, a warning in her voice. Then, more softly, "You've helped me a lot, probably more than I can repay. But you can't help me here, you can't fix this." 

"Why don't you tell me anyway?" 

Sarah looked away, out the window at the rural scenery fast disappearing as they continued away from the city. The sky had darkened, and it looked as if there were in for a thunderstorm. The kinetic energy evident about them, echoed the potential raging within her psyche. Because, the fact was, she wanted to tell him. 

But it went against everything she'd believed in for the past six months, everything that had kept her alive, everything that she'd convinced herself was necessary. Why should he with a single look be able to undo all of that? And how could she let him? 

She turned hesitantly back to his profile, and found that he was watching the sky, frowning. The first colossal droplets of rain were splatting the windshield, and more were following. "I think we're in for a bad one," he said. 

Sarah couldn't help but agree with him. In the space of a few seconds the rain was becoming a torrent. Gary kicked the windshield wipers up to maximum, but it did little to help visibility. They were evidently driving into the storm. The road was beginning to pool with water, unable to drain quickly enough to prevent the rivulets from forming. She thought her heart would step when she felt the vehicle hydroplane. 

"We're going to have to stop," Gary said, already slowing. He was squinting out of the window trying to get a bead on something Sarah couldn't see. "I'm gonna turn around," he announced. "It'll put the worse of the rain behind us, and I think I saw a place we can park to wait out the storm." 

Turned out it was an old farm with a red barn set off in the back. It was large enough to pull the car into with room to spare. Between opening the large wooden doors and getting the car inside, they both ended up completely drenched. Once inside, Sarah looked it over. Whomever had left it, had cleared out all of the equipment, but left behind a healthy scattering of hay. The air was rich with the smell of it. And the fact that it had been well maintained was evident as well. The owners had taken the time to waterproof the roof, ensuring that for the time being its temporary human occupants would be out of the rain. The decided drop in temperature was another matter, however. 

"Back in the car," they both decided at the same time. 

"I almost wish we'd gotten some coffee with the burgers," Gary said, shivering as he turned the heat up a notch. 

Sarah glanced over, noting that he only wore a flannel shirt over a pair of jeans. The shirt was completely soaked through and clung to his skin. It was uncomfortable just looking at him. She'd already peeled out of her damp jacket and lain it across the back seat, leaving only her wet mass of hair to deal with. 

"Why don't you take off your shirt," she suggested. She was surprised, and almost laughed out loud when Gary looked mildly embarassed. Judging from the looks of him, she didn't think he'd have anything to be worried about, but she didn't dare tell him so. "It'll help you get warm faster," she said instead. 

Gary nodded, stuttered something and began to unbutton. Sarah bit her lip and looked out of the window at the inside of the barn again. The fading daylight that shone through the single window barely illuminated the place. But, having grown accustomed to the dimness, she thought she could make out a ladder leading upward. A loft. 

She turned at the sound of a grunt from Gary. He was struggling to get his arm out of one sleeve. The close confines of the car weren't helping, it seemed. She caught a breif glimpse of a white bandage as he continued to struggle. The gunshot. How could she have forgotten? That had to hurt after all that driving, and then moving that door. 

"Here, let me help you," she said, reaching toward him. 

"I got it," he told her, moving slightly away. Even though, obviously, he didn't have it. 

"No, let me help," she insisted. 

"I've got --" 

"What? Oh I forgot, you're only allowed to help others. Forgive me." There was no way he could miss the sarcasm. 

Gary glanced over at her, then away. Nodded his head slightly. 

"You're welcome," she said, gently easing the shirt off his arm. The bandage looked okay as far as she could tell, but she touched it gingerly just to be sure. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" She couldn't resist saying as she brushed the back of her hand against his bare skin. It was damp and chilled. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, watching as she turned the heat up the final notch to full blast. 

Sarah smiled internally, pretending not to notice his valiant struggle to remain vigilant. He was obviously exhausted. She thought about suggesting that he get some sleep, but decided against it. It would probably only lead to another argument over who was helping whom. Gary had a hero complex that was something to be reckoned with. Something that required a more subtle approach. 

Sighing heavily, she made a production of getting comfortable in the seat and closing her eyes. She felt Gary's eyes on her for a few seconds, and had to fight to maintain a calm facade. Minutes later, she heard his breath even out into the measured tempo of deep sleep. 

Happy with that singular success, she opened her eyes and took a moment to observe him. His hands lay limply across his thighs, a newspaper peeking out beneath one of them. She wondered idly about that - he always seemed to have a newspaper. Maybe he liked to keep up with current events. Mentally shrugging, she allowed her gaze to settle on his jeans. They were still slightly damp, but were drying out nicely. Long legs continued, and disappeared beneath the dash. Her eyes made the return journey over his bare chest, obviously warmed, rising in time with his breathing. And then quickly over, and beyond the bandaged arm to his face, so young and vulnerable in sleep. His hair had dried in bangs which fell across his brow, adding to the little boy image. His lips were parted slightly, causing her to feel an incredible urge to do something she hadn't considered in over six months. 

Moving abruptly, she shut off the engine and moved out of the car. The motion didn't appear to disturb Gary overmuch, beyond a deeper sigh, he remained in blissful slumber. 

Sarah's thoughts were once again disturbed, however. She couldn't allow herself to think the thoughts that had entered her mind moments earlier. Too many things rode on her detachment, her life being paramount among them. 

Turning in the direction of the loft she'd spotted earlier, she decided to do a little investigating. Having grown up in the city, she'd only seen places like this on television. Going into a real live loft would fulfill at least one of her childhood fantasies. 

* * * 

"Anything?" Marissa turned toward Chuck. 

"No," Chuck sighed, returning the phone to its cradle. "Same message." 

Marissa nodded and turned back toward the office. All they could do was wait. 

Part Nine 

Gary's head jerked and his eyes snapped open. His eyes trailed over the fogged windows of the car. Everything was still, dark and quiet; night had fallen. He felt warm and comfortable. Gazing down, he found that a large blanket was drapped across the front seat, covering the both of them. Sarah must have found it someplace, he realized; it still smelled of hay. It was nice. But still, something tugged at the edge of his consciousness. 

A strangled sound from his side startled him to full alertness. Perhaps that was what had awakened him. Reaching over, he laid a hand against Sarah's shoulder and called her name. 

Sarah tossed her head, and continued muttering helplesly. "No...please..." 

"Sarah," he spoke a bit more firmly, gently shaking her shoulder. 

Her eyes snapped open, glazed from the nightmare. She began to struggle, her arms striking out as if fighting some imagined attacker. 

"Sarah, it's me Gary!" he called, trying to shake her out of her stupor. At first he didn't think it was working, then her eyes began to clear and then her face crumbled. She reached out for him, throwing her arms around him and holding on tightly. Gary didn't know what else to do; he wrapped his arms around her and told her that everything would be okay. 

She regained control of herself quickly, but he could still feel the frantic pounding of her heart. As if suddenly self-conscious, she pushed away from him and threw a meek 'sorry' in his direction. 

"No problem," Gary told her, meaning it. Some instinct told him that she'd been through a lot and needed the release more than she realized. He waited patiently as she sniffed, gazing helplessly at her hands. Her lips moved as if she were attempting to form the words. 

"I..." she began, then stopped as if she'd changed her mind. Then, beginning again, "It started about six months ago. It was...It was our honeymoon. We'd had what you might call a whirlwind relationship. I'd known him a month when we got married." She laughed at that, shook her head. Obviously some of the memories brought her joy. 

She continued, "We went on a cruise to Greece - he gave me this." She hooked finger beneath her sweater and pulled out the locket. She took a deep breath, strengthening herself to continue. 

"We came back to the United States, and a limo picked us up at the airport. It was a long drive out, and it was late. I fell asleep. Some time during the drive we stopped on a road. When I woke up, I heard voices arguing outside. Frank and the driver were outside. I...I got out of the car, and then one of them looked at me, and then they...they..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes began to fill. "Gary, they shot him, right there in front of me!" She was sobbing then, her words coming haltingly. "And..th-there was n-nothing I could do. All I can remember is screaming and screaming and screaming." 

Gary reached for her again, but she resisted. She had more she wanted to tell. "The driver was hurt, but he got us out of there, took me to this place. The next day, he gave me money and a new ID. He told me that I should disappear and forget everything I'd seen that night. He said to forget that I'd ever loved Frank, or that he'd ever loved me. He said..." She trailed off a second, thinking... "He said that there was no one to watch over me." 

Wiping ineffectually at the tears that continued to course down her cheeks, she turned to him. "That's the whole sordid mess," she said. "Happy you know my horribe secret?" 

"I'm glad you told me," Gary said, softly. "It's a start. Why didn't you ever go to the police?" 

"The driver," she began, grimacing at the irony. "Who never would tell me his name, warned me against it. Warned me against it. He said I could never use my old name again, that that person no longer existed. I checked on it. Everyone believes that I died in a boating accident in Greece. I can't even go home, Gary." 

Gary pulled her to him again as she cried. He was unable to imagine what it must have been like to be forever separated from everyone and everything you know and loved in the blink of an eye. 

"Maybe there is someone else?" Gary suggested after a time, his breath gently ruffling her hair. 

Sarah shrugged against him. Her sobs had long since calmed, but she continued to hold on to him. "I don't know, Gary. I've been running since that night, it seems. I don't think I know any other life." 

"There's a way out of this," Gary said. "I know there is. All we have to do is find it." 

Sarah didn't reply, but the dejected sigh that escaped her illustrated her lack of hope of that ever coming to pass. 

Part Ten 

Gary woke with a start, knocking his knee against the steering wheel. The unexpected contact, caused him to also knock his head against the side window. The noise of his suprised awakening woke his passenger as well. 

Sarah jerked awake, casting a confused look in his direction. Sometime during the night, she'd settled back on her side of the car, her knees curled up on the seat. "What's going on?" she asked drowsily. 

"It's nothing," Gary said, still only partially awake. "Go back to sleep." Carefully moving his stiffened legs, hoping to restore some measure of circulation, he heard a familiar jangling coming from the floor. Curious, he moved again. The jangling occured again, and moved toward the rear of the car. "Huh?" 

Sarah looked up again at his question. "Hmph?" 

"I think it was the keys," Gary tried to explain. At Sarah's expression of continued confusion, he waved it off. "Never mind, go back to sleep. I must have knocked them out of the ignition." The answer must have satisfied her, because she settled again beneath the blanket and closed her eyes. 

Gary allowed his eyes to remain a moment longer, then moving carefully, he opened the door as quietly as he could. His efforts to keep the noise level down went out the window when the chill air brushed against the bare skin of his chest. He gasped involuntarily, then cast a murmured apology over his shoulder, explaining 'cold'. 

Reaching quickly across the seat, he grabbed his shirt and shrugged into it. The air was still cool but at least he had some protection. Once outside the car, he knealed in the open door and peered beneath the seat. The near dawn light did little to illuminate the dim confines. 

Running his hands along the underside of the seat, his fingers came into contact with something thin and squarish. He pulled it out. Squinting at the surface, the words became visible. "Hootie and the Blowfish" he murmured, transferring the compact disk case to his other hand before again reaching beneath the seat. His fingers brushed something that jingled. Forcing his arm further beneath the seat he was able to grasp them. "Got it," he whispered triumphantly, climbing gratefully back into the warm car. 

After having closed the door, he opened the storage compartment that sat between the two seats. At least he hoped that was where Chuck was keeping his Cds these days. Preparing to toss the case in, he paused. "Phone..." he said, softly. 

"What?" Sarah asked, resignedly. Looking more awake than she wanted to be, she uncurled her legs and yawned. 

"There's a phone in here," Gary reiterated, pointing into the compartment. "Chuck's cell-phone is in here." He stared across at her as if he'd just found gold. 

Sarah sat up straighter. "Really?" 

"Yeah," Gary said, holding it up for her perusal. "I gotta call Chuck." 

"At," Sarah pointed to the clock on the dash, "Six o' clock in the morning? Sure he's going to appreciate that?" 

"Probably not," Gary admitted, watching as the roam light began to flash. The hour wasn't the only thing Chuck wasn't going to like. 

"Well," Sarah said from her side of the car, reaching for her over coat. "I'll be right back." 

Gary watched her get out of the car, then returned his attention to the phone as a message machine began. He wasn't totally insensitive, he would leave a message at McGinty's. As the message ended, and the beep sounded, he made a mental note to be sure Chuck changed the message. 

* * * * * * * * * 

'...and 8 p.m. on Sundays. Remember, the Leprachauns are out there. ' BEEP. 

"Chuck this is Gary...." The figure sitting before the control panel full of switches and reels came alert at the name of the caller. Reaching across to another form that was slumped nearby. "He wake up. Something's happening." 

His companion was immediately awake. Casting a quick glance over the instrument panel, he settled in to listen. 

"...and change that message!" The message came to an end. The two men looked at one another knowingly. The first man reached for the phone, quickly punching in a number, while the other pushed aside one of the curains that hung at the deeply tinted windows. The Restuarant was deserted, as was the rest of the street. He wouldn't have minded having a place like that. As his partner began speaking, he allowed the curtains to fall back into place, returning his thoughts to the business at hand. 

"Yeah, Johns," his partner was saying. "We have something." Quickly relaying the information from the tape, he listened for further instructions. "Can do," he agreed stretching. "You call Rivers? I for one am tired of being in this van with this wise guy." He threw a look of mock irritation at his partner. "All right. Good bye." 

Clicking off the phone, he turned to his partner. "Shut it down. We're outta here. I'll drive." 

"Not gonna argue with that," his friend said, clicking off the recording device. Removing the tape from the slot, he placed it into a small box. "But, I gotta take a whiz," he added after a moment. "Can you stop at the corner mart?" 

Part Eleven 

As Gary clicked off the phone, he settled back into his seat and closed his eyes. If he were back at home he'd be sound asleep. Well, at least for the next ten minutes. Then he'd be getting the paper. A twinge of guilt shot through him at the thought of what might happen that day that he wouldn't be able to take care of. He was an hour and a half outside of Chicago. And it wasn't very likely that -- 

Slap. 

Gary straightened like a shot when a sudden sound interrupted his thoughts. He shook his head, perhaps he'd imagined it, he decided, settling back into his seat. 

Meow. 

What?! He again jerked upright, glancing quickly out of the driver's side window. There sitting in the midst of hay and debris was a very familiar orange cat seated blithely atop tomorrow's newspaper. 

Gary threw the door open, and gently shoeed the cat way. "I haven't got anything for you today," he told it, extricating the paper from beneath it. The cat turned tail and headed off in the opposite direction, but Gary barely noticed. He'd opened the paper and immediately begun to scan the headlines. The light was still poor, but the large letters stood out brilliantly against the pale newsprint. 

MAN FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY BEHIND LOCAL RESTAURANT 

Beneath the headline was a photograph. Gary immediately recognized the familiar features of the man from the day before who'd come out of McGinty's with a gun, the one the paper had warned him about. 

Fumbling, Gary switched on the ceiling light and read the article through. It named the man as Jeremy Rivers. He would be killed in the alley at sometime before 9 a.m. Gary reached for Chuck's cell phone. Might as well give his friend lots of reasons to be unhappy. 

* * * 

"Yeah," the man sneered as he hung up the phone. Turning an evil glance toward his partners, he flashed an ominous grin. "Time to roll." One of the men climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Neither of his peers spoke, but simply settled back into the seats as the driver turned the keys in the ignition. The black sedan eased its way out on to the street, moving steadily away from the dark-clad figure that headed along the sidewalk in the direction of the restuarant bearing the name McGinty's. 

* * * 

Rivers stepped out of his apartment door, then suddenly remembering his photo packette, ducked back inside. The phone began to ring. Pausing mid-stride, he looked toward the object, wondering who would be calling him now. Had Johns and McRoy been able to get information already? 

"Rivers." 

He listened incredulously as a voice began to speak, warning him to stay away from McGinty's. 

"Who is this?" he demanded. 

The voice continued to speak very quickly, warning that if he went to McGinty's something awful would happen to him. The voice insisted that he had to stay away, all day. 

"All right. Is this some crank?" Rivers demanded. It had to be. No one else could possibly know so much about his movements of late. Could they? "Who is this?" he asked again, his voice softly ominous. 

The caller told him his name relunctantly, and again begged him to stay away. Whatever he said after that, Rivers missed at his shock at hearing the caller's name. Stunned, he quickly hung up the phone. Running a hand through his hair, he began to think very quickly. How could this man know where he was? Who he was? Perhaps he was more dangerous than he'd thought. 

The phone rang again. 

Rivers picked it up. "I wanna know how--" he began, before another very familiar, not altogether happy voice cut him off. 

"I thought you were somebody else," he said, sighing. "Crank call." 

"Oh really?" he asked. "What's the location? Right. Got it." 

Part Twelve 

Gary stared at the phone irritably. Try and save a guy's life... He shook his head, and looked back at the article. Well, at least he *had* saved the man's life, despite the fact that the same man was probably trying to kill him. But, the paper had shown him the story for a reason. And he'd done his part. 

Having become resigned to the often unclear path the paper took as his lot in life, Gary continued to scan the paper for other items that might require his attention. There were several. One of which was the mention of a fire in a nursery where prized bonsai trees were to be exhibited by handicapped children. He again picked up the cell phone; time to call on his old buddy Chuck to run a few errands. 

He quickly dialed the number of the restaurant and waited, gritting his teeth through the message. He spoke after the beep. "Chuck, Gary. I need to you and Marissa to check my messages. I have a few errands." He emphasized the last word - both his friends would know what he meant. He couldn't very well leave specific instructions on changing the future on the company answering machine. 

Disconnecting the call, he dialed his own number. After the tone, he began to speak. That task completed, he hung up the phone, but left it on, while he continued to scan for something he might have missed. 

* * * 

"Good morning, Chicago, it's going to be a beautiful day..." 

"Yeah, yeah, definitely a beautiful day," Rivers murmured as he turned the radio off and grabbed up his cell phone. There was no reason to believe that this day would be any better than all of the other days he'd had to endure the past few months. He quickly hit the power button, dividing his attention between the light morning traffic and the display readout. He pushed the button again when there was no familiar beep. 

He swore softly under his breathe, cursing his luck. Pushing the button again had no effect. Batteries must have been dead - or worse. He threw the thing into the passenger seat, and turned off in search of a phone. 

As he drove, he reviewed the case in hand. His mind continued to come back to Gary Hobson. What was he doing in this mess? His record was clean of any dealings with the Agency. There was one blurb with the FBI, but it couldn't be tied to this case, and his police record was...interesting. But still... What if that warning call hadn't been a crank from Johns or McRoy? Why would the man who was with the woman he was hunting call barely beyond the crack of dawn to warn him against doing his job? 

Another thing that also disturbed him was the fact that if the phone call hadn't come, he would not have gotten the information concerning Hobson and the woman's last known whereabouts, as his cell phone was no longer functioning. And, if that hadn't taken place, his destination *would* indeed have been McGinty's. What if... The need to cross several lanes of traffic drew him out of his musings. 

There was a young man at the phone who showed no signs of finishing up his call in any reasonable amount of time. Sighing, Rivers glanced both directions along the street. This was getting him nowhere, and the longer his stood the stronger the growing sense of anxiety within his gut became. Flashing his badge, he urged the young man along. He was almost even polite about it. 

Though the boy showed signs of defiance, there was a great deal of fear and uncertainty in his eyes. He relinquished the phone and scurried off, casting glances over his shoulder. 

Rivers turned away, casually displaying his gun. That should do for keeping the kid out of his hair for a while, he hoped. Nevermind that there were those who frowned on what he'd just done. Glancing quickly over his shoulders for any other observers, he dialed a phone number. No one seemed to notice that a forty-ish man dressed in non-descript clothing had just quietly terrorized a young wannabe punk. 

After the message that the cellular customer was not in the area, or had turned off his phone, Rivers hung up, exasperated. Where could McRoy be? Wasn't he supposed to be getting a team ready to hit the farm house? Re-depositing his change, he dialed another number. He hated to do this, but he had to know the answer to his question. The call was picked up by a groggy voice on the third ring. 

"Johns?" Rivers waited for the drowsy man on the other end of the connection to recognize his voice. 

"Yeah, it's Rivers. Listen, uh, did you and McRoy put somebody up to crank calling me this morning? Bout fifteen minutes ago?" He felt silly even as he spoke. Johns didn't think kindly of it, either. Rivers winced as he put the phone away from his ear. 

"I know... I know..." he said, trying to calm the other man. "It's just that somebody called me - it was almost spooky. He knew exactly what I was about to do. In fact, he told me *not* to do it. Said something terrible would happen to me if I did." 

Rivers listened at Johns' suddenly serious tone. He nodded. "I know. Yeah, I will. Uh, what happened to McRoy? I tried to call him... no answer. " 

Rivers laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, maybe he's having cellular phone trouble, too. Another example of topnotch government efficiency. Well I'm gonna be out of touch here, for a bit. Could you call in and leave a message for McRoy that I'm gonna head on out to the area. I'll meet the team there." 

Rivers laughed again, genuinely this time. "Yeah, I'll remember that. I owe you one." 

* * * 

The man stepped through the door and slipped into the shadows that still clung to the lonely alley. Pausing, he pulled out his cellular phone and punched in a number from memory. "It's not here," he murmured. "Make sure you get what I want before you *handle* the merchandise, understand? I need that necklace. Do it right this time." 

With a decisive click, he shut off the phone. Casting a final glance over his shoulder, he disappeared into the dimness without a backward glance. 

* * * 

Wrapping her coat around herself more tightly, Sarah gazed into the morning sky. Its brilliant light touched the early blossoms and budding green of young trees. It was a beautiful day, everything so bright and fresh and new. She wondered at that. Yesterday spring hadn't smelled so sweet, and the sun hadn't shone as bright. Had nature made the change so quickly, or had she? What was different? 

Breathing in deeply, as if she could store the touch, taste, feel and look of the morning within herself, Sarah took a final glance around the yard. She wanted to cherish this moment, in case it should slip away. It reminded her of family and life and loves and all the things she'd left behind. She no longer wanted to bury that memory. It no longer flooded her with intense pain, but had morphed into a bittersweet melancholy at what had once been hers. Releasing the breath heavily, she stepped into the dimness of the barn and started toward Gary and his little red car. 

Her eyes settled on him. He didn't appear to have heard her, but was hunched over, engrossed in something. Looked like a newspaper. The thing had to be at least a day old. What could he possibly find so interesting a day late? 

She couldn't prevent the small smile that spread her lips. In the short period of time she'd known Gary, she'd learned that he was intensely interested. In what, she wasn't entirely sure, be he had a way of focusing his concern. He really cared. And she trusted him. Completely. That was why she'd told him everything the night before. Of course she'd been vulnerable, and frightened and desperately in need of human contact. But she'd had those needs before she met Gary and she hadn't succumbed; hadn't even considered it. And best of all, the feelings of shame and trepidation she'd expected to feel were nowhere in evidence. In fact, the best way to describe what she felt was relieved. Free. Perhaps that was why the day seemed so much brighter, everything clearer. Because for the very first time in a long, long while she'd began to feel hope that the nightmare might end, that someday, some how, just maybe, she could go home again. 

Quickening her pace, she reached for the door and snatched it open. Gary startled visibly, snapping the newspaper closed as wide shocked eyes locked in hers. 

"Hi," she said, staring back, a gentle smile on her lips. 

"Hi," Gary returned, a glimmer of anxiety present in his gaze. 

"Didn't mean to scare you," she said, her smile turning to a laugh. She glanced around the confines of the car, quickly deciding that this wasn't the place she wanted to be at the moment. The past twelve hours or so that they'd spent there had been more than enough. Reaching into her bag, she rummaged around for a few seconds before triumphantly presenting two brown wrapped packages. 

"Look what I have." She displayed them for Gary's benefit. Two snickers bars, not too much the worse for wear, sat in her palms. "Breakfast," she declared. "Want one?" 

"Yeah, thanks." Gary reached for one, quickly tearing into the package. 

Sarah remained leaning into the car. "It's beautiful outside," she said, pointing toward the heavy wooden door. "Why don't we eat out there. It's kinda stuffy in here. Besides, no offense, but this car doesn't smell so good right now." 

Gary chuckled at that, nodded his agreement and climbed out of the car. After a few steps he went back for the cell phone. "In case Chuck calls," he explained. 

They found a spot on the sunny side of the barn, and settled atop the blanket that Sarah had found the night before. "You plan on reading that?" Sarah asked, pointing toward the paper he'd again stuffed in his back pocket. 

"Huh? Oh...uh," Gary stuttered. "Well...you see..." 

"Never mind," Sarah smiled, waving off his apology. "You must be a news junkie like my brother. His name is Thomas. He watched all the news shows, and only listened to news talk shows on the radio during the day. He lived for news and information. I used to pick on him; told him that someday he was heading for information overload. He loved his conspi... " 

Sarah thought back to the serious young man who was her brother. Always talking about this conspiracy or the other. She'd bet he'd have a thing or two to say about what had happened to her. If only he knew; if only he could know... She felt her smile fading and a sense of sadness edging in. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to speak of them out loud. 

"Sarah...." 

She heard Gary's voice softly calling her name. 

"I'm sorry," she said, a small catch in her voice. "It's just that I miss them all so much." Forcing a smile, she continued. "He was a good brother. Never once pulled my pigtails or called me a dumb girl. That was my other brother, Jason's, responsibility." 

The more she talked, the more she felt herself spiraling to a place in which she had no control. She just couldn't seem to stop the words from coming. It was as if, having denied their memory for so long, the flood gates were now opened and would not be denied. 

She continued talking, speaking of her brothers and her mother, who'd only wanted the best for her little girl, and had tried to teach her to always be a lady. She told him about aunts and cousins she hadn't seen in decades and even the little old ladies across the hall in the building in which she'd lived only two days prior. They'd gotten her a job at a bakery. On the very first day she'd spilled vanilla all over herself. Alternately laughing and crying, she continued to talk. And Gary listened, all through it, comforting and supporting at times, laughing with her and at one point when his eyes had began to water, she thought that he'd cry with her. 

When she thought that she was all talked out, she sniffed, wiped her eyes and apologized to him. "I'm sorry, Gary. I can't seem to stop spilling my guts when I'm around you." 

Gary smiled hesitantly into her eyes. "Any time." 

Sarah bit her lip. "Gary, remember last night, when you told me that everything would be okay? That there was a way out of this?" She looked up at him through her lashes. "Did you really mean that? I mean, do you believe it?" 

"Of course I do," he said. "There's always a way." 

She blew out her breathe. "Thank you for believing. I used to have a life, and I want it back. It's probably going to be very scary, and I have no idea how to go about it. But will you help me?" 

Sarah saw the pleasure shining out of his eyes as he nodded. "I'll do anything I can. You deserve to have that life back." 

"Thank you," Sarah breathed, leaning across the blanket, putting her arms around his neck. 

Gary's arms went hesitantly around her lower back. "Uh..your-you're welcome," he stuttered. 

Sarah pulled back slightly so she could look up at him. "And thank you for last night," she added, her gaze was serious, heavy with meaning. 

Gary stared back at her, suddenly still. 

Something transpired between the two of them, an energy transference, a thought, something. Sarah's breath caught in her throat and Gary's eyes seemed to darken and cloud slightly. She wasn't sure what happened next, if it was he who moved, or she. The only thing that was definite was that his lips were suddenly closer to hers, much closer. 

Part Thirteen 

Chuck and Marissa arrived to McGinty's at the same time. Chuck unlocked the door and stepped into the darkened area, glancing about. "No Gary," they both deduced simultaneously. 

"I tried my cell phone number until about midnight last night and still nothing," Chuck said. "Marissa, what if this is it? What if something really bad happens this time?" 

"Gary's smart Chuck; he's got a good head on his shoulders. He knows what he's doing." 

"Yeah, but what if he's in *way* over his head?" Chuck insisted. 

"You can't think that way, Chuck. He will --" Marissa tried to calm him. But it was clear that Chuck wasn't ready to be calmed. Stomping through the bar, he entered the office, continuing his rant as if Marissa hadn't spoken. She followed at a much slower pace. 

"Why does he put us through this?" he demanded, punching buttons on the message machine. Marissa's brows raised slightly as this abuse of the device, but she continued to listen as he talked. "He cares so much about all those people who he doesn't even know - always risking his life for them. But then, what about us, the people who care about *him*? We just get to..." His words trailed off as a very familiar voice began speaking. 

* * * 

Sarah's eyes closed in anticipation, her fingers clinching in the fabric of his shirt. And then their lips touched, very gently at first as if the first meeting was exploratory. The met again, having enjoyed the first contact very much and wanting more. The third time they met and clung. He tasted of chocolate and nuts, and smelled of all the things she loved about a man. She didn't want the kiss to end, and seemingly, neither did he. 

The hand that had been in the vicinity of her lower back traced a path along her spine to the center of her back, at a point just beneath her neck. The effect was that the movement drew them closer, increased the intensity of their contact. 

The shrill sound of the cellular phone interrupted, cutting through the morning, a foreign sound that did not belong. It startled both of them. Gary gasped, as if coming up for air. His eyes locked with hers, utterly bewildered. Almost subconsciously he clicked on the phone and put it to his ear. His eyes never left hers. 

"Hello?" His voice had a hoarse, breathless quality to it. 

Sarah could hear the voice on the other end speaking loudly. "Gare?! Is that you, man? Care to tell me why -- " 

Gary coughed, and Sarah decided it was time to make her exit. Chuck and Gary obviously had some things they needed to work out. And it was going to be mighty hard to do with her wrapped in his arms. 

Carefully extricating herself, she pointed back toward the barn. She just go in and clean out the car. If she was going to try fixing things, that meant riding in that car again. And she had no desire to do that unless she could free the vehicle of the stench of stale burgers. 

Gary watched Sarah walk away even as he attempted to focus on what Chuck was saying. "Huh? What's that Chuck?" he asked, returning his attention to the cellular. 

Chuck told him how little he appreciated worrying half the night. And then demanded to know what was wrong with the message he'd placed on McGinty's answering machine. Gary sighed and asked if he'd gotten the second message. 

"Other message?" the blankness in Chuck's tone told him everything he needed to know. 

"I left a message for you to check my messages," Gary quickly explained, glancing at his watch. There was still plenty of time for Chuck to save the bonsai tress. "There was some other stuff I needed for you to do," Gary added, grabbing the paper from his back pocket. "Why don't you just walk up there and..." 

"Do?" Chuck questioned. "I've got a business to run here, partner." 

"You can handle all of this over the phone," Gary assured him. "Or would you rather I make all the calls from here, including information." 

"Information?!" Chuck exclaimed. Gary could make out the tell-tell changes in Chuck's voice that told him that his friend was perhaps walking up a flight of stairs. "On a cellular, looking for people in the paper? Are you nuts?" Then, "All right. I'll do it. Like you knew I would." 

"My God, Gare..." Chuck's voice trailed off in astonishment. Gary could hear Marissa's faint "What?" in the background. He added his own to the mix, a feeling of intense trepidation settling in the pit of his stomach. Only silence greeted his ears. 

"Chuck?! Chuck?! What is it?!" 

"Someone has been in your apartment, Gary," Chuck finally answered. 

Gary was speechless for a moment. "Wha- What do you mean somebody's been in my apartment?" This couldn't be true. Chuck had to be wrong. His mind immediately jumped to the headline he'd seen earlier in the paper about Jeremy Rivers being killed in the alley. But the story had changed. "Are you sure there's no one else in the restaurant?" 

"I don't think so, buddy," Chuck answered softly, and Gary could picture him looking around behind himself. "Marissa and I came in together a few minutes ago. But I'll go check." 

Gary came to his feet. He heard a shuffling then Marissa's voice came on the line. "Gary?" 

"Marissa," he began to nervously pace. "Tell, Chuck to be careful." 

"He is, Gary. I heard him pick up your baseball bat." That didn't give Gary much relief, Rivers was to have been shot. 

"Okay," he said, leaning against the side of the barn, trying to calm himself. His friends weren't supposed to be in danger because of what he did with the paper. "Listen Marissa, I'm gonna hang up and I want you to call the police right after. I'll be there as soon as I can." 

"Be careful, Gary." 

"Yeah," Gary said, clicking off the phone. Sighing, he ran both his hands through his hair, then turned to round the corner back to the front of the barn. Cool metal against his neck brought him up short. 

Part Fourteen 

Sarah made quick work of cleaning out the car. It was mostly a matter of old burger wrappers and leftover stale fries. Now, if she could just find a place for the trash. Thinking back, she remembered an old metal bin in the back corner near the side door. Wading the packages as tightly as she could, she crossed the room and hefted the lid up. An old FOR SALE sign lay near the bottom, covered with several coffee cups. She tossed the burger bags atop it. 

Just as she was preparing to shut the lid, a sound caught her ear. At first she thought it was Gary, then she began to identify several different voices. Fear shot through her, and she dropped immediately to her haunches alongside the garbage container. A pile of old planks began to topple, but she caught them with one hand, quickly settling them back into place. 

Moments later, the side door slammed open, nearly causing her heart to stop altogether. A brilliant beam of sunlight cut through the room illuminating the center of the barn like a spot light. The door had rocked back on its hinges and hung open as a misshapen shadow flickered across the hay covered floor. 

Heart pounding, Sarah backed around the bin as three sets of footsteps entered the barn, causing the shadows to form into three distinct shapes. One of them she immediately recognized as Gary. He stumbled slightly as he was shoved forward. The other two strolled in at a more leisurely pace. 

One of the men had a very deep voice, and directed the other to check out the car. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to think what to do. It wouldn't be long before they realized that she wasn't in the car, and then they would come looking for her. Her best bet was to get out of the side door and run. But could she do it? An incredible wave of guilt rose in her breast, even as she planned her next move. 

Inching around the side of the bin, barely daring to breath she eyed the door. It was so close. She could slip through it so easily. So easily. She only had to wait until their backs were turned, until they couldn't see the shadow that she'd inevitably make as she crossed the threshold on her way out of the barn. Yes, she could do it. That way she could get help for Gary, from a distance. 

Ever closer, perched on the verge of escape, she turned her gaze back to the men at the other side of the barn waiting for her moment. Gary would understand. She'd been running for what felt like all her life; that was all she knew how to do. It'd been wrong of her to think that she could change things. 

"Where is she?" She thought she heard one of the men ask. Now was her chance. Both men were distracted, focused on Gary. It was a simple matter now to just slip out. But something held her in place as she focused on Gary. Darling Gary. 

He gazed back at the man, unwaveringly. "Where's who?" She almost cried out at the urges that warred within her as she watched him stand up to these men. Flight! Her body wanted to flee; but her heart... that was another matter. And suddenly she knew without a doubt that she couldn't just run off and leave this man who'd risked his life to save hers; this man who had given her hope. 

Sarah winced, and her heart sank as one of the men delivered a breath stealing punch to Gary's stomach. Gary dropped to his knees, coughing. One of the men grabbed Gary by his hair and pulled him back to his feet. Pressing his face very close to Gary, his entire demeanor menacing, he muttered something. Sarah couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but she caught the look of fear mingled with defiance in Gary's eyes. 

Again the man must not have received the answer he desired for he hit Gary again, and again after which Gary leaned half dazed against the plank flooring. The man prepared to deliver a kick in Gary's direction when his partner stopped him. "We don't have time for this," he said through gritted teeth. "It's the girl we want." 

The other man looked at his friend and nodded. The expression on his face suggested that he'd really wanted to land that kick, however. Instead he withdrew a gun and pointed it at Gary's head. 

* * * 

Rivers pulled his car to a stop behind the stand of trees; this would be an ideal spot if he wanted to approach the old farmhouse unseen. Unfortunately, another vehicle had beat him to the scene. The vehicle was a black sedan with very darkly tinted windows. The tags were Illinois. 

Subconsciously, he reached for his cell phone, then remembered that it wasn't working. Damn. And where was his back up? McRoy was supposed to have met him there with the team. He glanced at his watch. 9:05 - well, at least that was working. 

Checking his weapon, he headed off in the direction of the farm. He'd crossed the field and was nearly out of the stand of trees that separated the farm property with its adjoining neighbor, when the sound of a gun shot pierced the air. He began to run. 

* * * 

Sarah thought she would die when the man pointed the gun at Gary's head. The old fears rose, and then hardened. This would not happen again. She would not stand by and watch Gary be killed as Frank had been. Almost without thought, she grabbed at a rock from near the garbage bin and tossed it across the barn. It resounded against the wall on the opposite side of the car. Both of the gunmen turn in the direction of the rock; one of them fired. Gary scrambled around the side of the car. Sarah could have sworn she caught a glimpse of him looking at his newspaper. 

As the startled men turned in the direction of the rock's hitting the wall, she grabbed up a lose plank, testing its grip in her hands. She would use it if she had to. Moving stealthily, she settled back into the corner as she heard a sound from outside of the barn. 

The shadow appeared in the doorway, gun drawn. The two men on the opposite side of the barn spun, their guns drawn as well. The man in the doorway fired, and then ducked away from the door. One of the gunmen nearer Gary fell to the ground. The other gunman, nearer Gary, seemed unsettled to see his partner on the floor and fumbled around a bit, before turning toward the car and Gary. 

Moving determinedly, he lifted his gun. The shadow appeared again in the door and Sarah got a good look at him this time. It was the man from Gary's bar. She wondered if he would kill the other man then she and Gary. His gun went off and the other gunman fell. In a swift move, born of self-preservation, she stood and swung the plank as hard as she could. The man grunted and fell to the floor, his gun clattering several feet away. 

Gary's head was spinning, and the words on the paper were swimming in and out of focus. But he thought he read WOMAN, THOUGHT DEAD, ARRESTED FOR FATAL SHOOTING OF FEDERAL AGENT. He couldn't make out the details, but a sudden thought entered his mind and he drew himself quickly to his feet. Perhaps too quickly, as the room took on a rolling motion that nearly sent him into the corner to lose his meager breakfast. 

"Sarah!" he called, trying to focus on the blurry figures standing in the center of the barn. The woman looked as if she were ready to pull the trigger at any moment. As he blinked, weaving, his vision began to clear somewhat. "Sarah," he called again, now more sure of what he was seeing. "Don't do it," he said. "It's a mistake." 

Jeremy Rivers stood, looking alternately between Sarah and Gary. Then he settled on Gary. "I know you," he said, breathlessly. "You called me this morning... warned me..." 

"What?!" Sarah demanded, now turning the gun on Gary. "I thought you were helping me! Instead you're with him?!?!?!?" 

Gary's hands shot skyward. "S-Sarah," he pleaded. "No, that wasn't it. You have to trust me. You've trusted me through these past few days, haven't you? Why - Why would I try to betray you after all of that?" 

Sarah shook her head, obviously very confused. "I don't know," she said. "I did trust you, Gary. But...he's the one." She whispered the last, gesturing toward the man who's arms were still held high. 

Gary lowered his, and took a step closer to the woman who looked as near hysterics as he'd ever seen anyone. "Remember what we talked about Sarah? Remember how you wanted to start over, and make things right? I think this is the way to do it. I think, maybe, here is where we can start. What would Frank want?" 

"But, he's trying to kill me," she cried, her hands shaking. "You, too." Gary moved hesitantly toward her. He worried that the gun might go off as a result of her nervousness. 

"I don't know about that," Gary said. "It was that guy who was in the car that shot at you." He pointed to one of the gunmen lying on the floor. "And it was their car that nearly ran you over," he continued gently, edging still closer. "I think maybe this man is trying to help us." 

Sarah turned teary eyes toward the other man, uncertain. She turned back to Gary. "I trust you, Gary. But what if you're wrong?" she cried. 

"I'm not," Gary said, firmly, hoping that he was right. 

Sarah dropped the gun to the floor, the energy suddenly seeming to go out her off. Gary grabbed her and held on. 

Rivers moved hesitantly toward the couple and picked up his gun. He then moved about the room to secure the prisoners. Turning back toward the pair, he reached into his pocket and slipped a picture into Sarah's hand. She and Gary had settled on the floor, spent. 

"What's this?" she asked, coming face to face with her own picture. Gary thought she looked happy, contented. She was on a boat, and her hair was blonde and flapping freely around her head. She flipped the picture over and caught a glimpse of dark ink: 'This is Sarah, the love of my life. The truth is in the necklace. Watch over her for me.' It was signed F. 

"Frank was my partner before he married you," Rivers said. "Unfortunately, when he needed me, I'd gone under deep cover. I didn't get this message until too late. His last assignment had been to recover a list of names. That way the Agency would let him go easy; set him up with a nice 'normal' job. He agreed. It didn't go as planned, and... " Rivers sighed. 

"I've been looking for you ever since. The necklace he gave you contains a list of names. Once we have it, and we capture those men, you'll be safe. No one will come after you anymore." 

Sarah ran a trembling hand over the handwriting and looked up at Rivers. Tears streamed down her face, but she smiled. 

"For what its worth, he loved you very much and would never have knowingly put your life in danger. But he must have known that things were off track. I'm sorry, Sarah." 

She nodded her head slightly. "It's good to know the truth." Placing the photo in her lap, she reached behind her neck and undid the necklace. She clasped her hand around it tightly, before relinquishing it to Rivers. He smiled wryly at her, then turned to Gary. 

"My back up seems to be a little late. Mind if I use your cell phone?" 

* * * 

TWO DAYS LATER 

"Sure you won't stay a while longer?" Gary asked, glancing past Sarah at the G-man standing near the ticket counter. McRoy, one of the men who'd worked with the Chicago office had been listed among the names on the list. As he had yet to be taken into custody, Sarah was to be escorted home by Agent Rivers. 

"I'm sure," Sarah said, smiling sadly. "And I'm gonna miss you. But, I need to get home," she smiled and closed her eyes contentedly as she said the word. "You have no idea how good that feels to say." 

Gary grinned at her. It was good to see her happy. "Take care of yourself." 

"You too," she said, lifting up on tiptoe to place a kiss on his lips. He kissed her back. Pulling away, she ran her hands along the arms of his new black leather jacket. She'd thought he looked great in it that first night. Some little birdie had gifted him with a replacement. Sighing deeply, "Good-bye, Gary. Thank you. For everything." 

"Good-bye, Sarah." He watched her disappear on the plane with the dark-suited agent then turned and walked toward his friends. 

THE END... 


End file.
